The Forced Recruit
by Apollyon Angel
Summary: *Teaser-ish* Heero reflects on the new battlefield before him, wondering how things had gotten so desperate so fast and if they would all make it out alive against such odds--including one of their own. Another plot bunny for the 'Devil with an Angel's Fa


Title: Forced Recruit Author: Apollyon Angel Notes: UNFINISHED, UNPOLISHED...basically a plot bunny that ran away. Disclaimers: I own nothing recognizable.  
  
/Negotiations: ...failed./  
  
Sunrise exploded over the blue planet, spreading searing white light far above the surface of the globe and into the void of space beyond. It spread sparkles of reflected light, like the universe's own tears, off of the metallic hulks gathering around the broken circle of the colony. The beacon fueled the fires burning in the minds of the human forces swarming on both sides while the cold of space sucked out any of the rays' true warmth and the steeled hearts took in the view before them.  
  
/Diplomatic channels: ...failed./  
  
Cold fires of fury, burning rage, flames of despair: the humans held within themselves blazes that flared at the sight of the ruined structure. Debris floated, spun, collided and shot out in all directions; water molecules floated, splattered and hung in the silent spaces between--the life blood of the space city leaking from the wound, weeping for it's people. Ships darted amongst the wreckage, circulating and taunting the forces gathering outside the debris field.  
  
/Battle prediction: ...eminent./  
  
Facing the dead colony, within the belly of his own space fighter, Heero Yuy tried to focus his mind on the movements of the enemy. Fragments of the events leading up to the colony's destruction played in the back of his mind, shuffling and organizing themselves like a jigsaw puzzle that changed with every fact lain down. His face was impassive as his fingers played over the console of his cockpit; the voices of his comrades skimmed the edge of his conscious, his training taking over as the light of a new day brought a new sense of hope and horror to the soon-to-be battlefield.  
  
/Predicted success/failure: ...undetermined./  
  
The situation was predicted, as the probabilities of death in the line of duty always were.  
  
/Outlook: bad./  
  
Ever since their agents had been taken they had imagined the worst, now their nightmares replayed before their eyes, all too real. The cries of outrage and fear echoed over Earth and the colonies pushing the Preventers into action. Not that they wouldn't have demanded revenge even if events hadn't played out as they had.  
  
The com system murmured the Preventer's anxious voices as Heero's mind repeated the litany he had lived by as a Preventer--the list of reasons and slightly desperate hopes that he clung to as the only thread to his humanity in the years of fighting. /I will accomplish my mission with as few casualties as possible. I will not fail. We can never fail. To fail is to break the peace. To fail is to allow more children to die./  
  
His right hand ghosted over a red button set before him. The only one of it's kind in existence. The latest in controlled insanity at the push of a button. A last resort that he had never been tempted to use since the last war, until that moment.  
  
He swept his eyes past it as the knot of dull pain in his gut brought his mind back to the computer's analysis of the battle to come. The young warrior submerged himself in the data: distances between the defensive lines, types and numbers of weapons on both sides, thinking of a dozen possible attack strategies for both sides, then a dozen ways to defend against them.  
  
He focused on attaining victory measured in blood; his only way to pay the price of peace and revenge.  
  
The lines of enemy movement and the black void of space was suddenly interrupted as all three viewscreens of the small cockpit were overwhelmed with identical enlarged images of a grinning, fidgeting creature. "Heero! Hey buddy, snap out of it!"  
  
"Dammit Maxwell," Heero scowled as the three Duos waved their hands around him, with a few flicks of his controls the image shrunk down to the upper left hand corner of his main screen. "I'm trying to concentrate."  
  
"Jeez. Touché, touché." The other young man grinned, but the action looked strained, more like habit then any sense of amusement. Too soon the grin faded and the solemn face aged five years. His hard indigo eyes were piercing without their usual mirth. "Heero? Do you think...?"  
  
Heero's eyes darted to study the scenes of growing tension around them and met Duo's troubled gaze straight on. The unasked question, the one no one wanted to voice but all felt gripping their hearts, was held in his eyes. Recognition passed between the two men, an unspoken acceptance between the two fighters that had seen too many battles to hold on to the innocence of optimism: recognition of dying hope. "We will try our best, Duo. That's all we can do."  
  
The other only nodded, unable to work up a witty reply. There was nothing more for them to say even though the in a few minutes all that would be spoken would be commands of attack and cries of death.  
  
Attack, pull back, provide cover fire, focus on point...commands that were bred into their minds until they moved without thought, until they were faster than conscious reaction, faster than reflex. But that did not mean they acted without thought or awareness, on the contrary, their awareness of their actions and the ripples of reactions that followed was all too clear, all too painful. Time and again they brushed aside their own fears to serve the cause, and each time, losing a piece of their hearts.  
  
**Two days prior, Earthside, aprox. 20:00**  
  
The visitor left the dust-coated motorcycle at the end of the town center and looked up the long driveway. He ignored the looks of curiosity and cries of recognition equally, cold gaze falling on the large doorway of a large white house; a luxurious mansion in the midst of two story clay houses and dirty, cattle packed streets.  
  
The people in the street stilled to silence as a large Arabian man appeared in the doorway as if called to the stranger's silent presence by some greater power. The large man grinned and stepped into the brilliant sunlight to greet his guest who stood unmoving and watchful on the edge of the street. By the time the Arabian had greeted the young man and offered the comforts of the white mansion several other men, each with a fez of blood red on their head, had gathered to see the visitor at the home of their leader.  
  
They stood back respectfully as the young man shook his head, refusing the hospitality, and spoke his news with no words of comfort to buffer the taller man's heart. The Maguanacs watched the once boy-soldier speak and their leader jerk back, as if struck. Their well-bred manners were thrown to the desert wind as Rashid's face twisted in pain and disbelief then melting into sorrow-driven rage.  
  
The ex-soldiers of the Middle East held their captain back from the smaller man only with sheer numbers. When the large man's howls had broken with tears Abdul turned back to find the young man mounting his motorcycle once again.  
  
"Heero, please," the man's proud countenance crumbled with dread and his voice cracked with fear, "what happened? Where is--"  
  
"Stay here. Take care of your families." The young man didn't turn back but spoke over his shoulder in a tone of authority that was as cold as the words he had spoken earlier, "This battle is not for you, no matter who is hurt."  
  
**End Flashback**  
  
Heero had no delusions about battle, especially not the one that was quickly approaching. To the boys that had started fighting alone those few precious years ago, and who now fought in an army that carried the hopes of peace, this battle would be more personal, more difficult than any other.  
  
The chances that everyone would come back, like so many missions before, to go home and celebrate another victory...Heero couldn't predict any outcomes. Too many factors were unknown, too many loose ends. Unanswered questions ricocheted around his skull like the space debris that once was a thriving community; once a living structure that held it's people within it's arms, now murdered and useless except to hide it's killers in the wreckage. 


End file.
